Reality TV These Days
by Chaos Supernova
Summary: In the not-too-post-apocalyptic future, like, twenty or so years in the future, Harry Styles, multi-billionaire and supposed inventor of the Spork-Chops (a fork, spoon, and chopsticks all rolled into one!) sponsors the Cash Grab, a weird scavenger hunt across the United States which funds the Fund to Find an Antidote for Top-heavy-people, aka FFAT. SYOC open! Full summary inside!


Reality TV These Days

Chapter One

 **I have no idea whether I will continue this or not. Just saying.**

 **WARNING: This may offend some people, such as hardcore Directioners, fans of Keeping Up With the Kardashians, obese people, and/or people who are sensitive to mentions of fat people. Before you start posting hate comments, remember this warning. If anyone posts a nasty comment regarding one of the things above, I will report you, because I already warned you and you just ignored it, so it's your fault if you're reported by me. If it's a hate comment based on the story and not one of the people/things above, that's fine. Hate away.**

Dove continued to stuff hundred-dollar bills into the gilded gold envelope. The race this year would be fun, as they had a multi-billionaire sponsor this year. Harry Styles (best not to mention the words "One Direction" around him) made his millions – billions – when he invented the Spork-Chops, a fork, spoon, and chopsticks rolled into one, the essential tool for people who were too lazy to use multiple pieces of cutlery or didn't want to get up to get more. Or those people who just were obsessed with sporks and chopsticks. Dove preferred sporks out of the two.

No one knew how Harry Styles had managed to use that tiny brain in that gorgeous head of his. It had been an ongoing controversy that Louis had been the one who invented it, because he was said to be the smartest. It was a mystery, really. But somehow, Harry Styles managed to invent something for lazy obese people, a population that was growing exponentially in America. (The manufacturing of double cheeseburgers was also growing exponentially at a frankly alarming rate.)

Dove shook her head, snapping out of her thoughts of Harry Styles and cheeseburgers. She remembered seeing a commercial where Harry Styles promoted In-And-Out Burger. TV these days.

More specifically, reality TV these days. She stared out the window of the studio, the TV studio that FFAT owned. She was the spokesperson for FFAT, which here means saying on commercials and press releases that FFAT's diet energy bar plan (Fat-Free in Ten Days!) changed her life because she used to be obese, and when she tried it, it miraculously worked, and now she was a healthy weight. It was also because she went out of her house once and a while and walked around her neighborhood sometimes, more exercise than any of her neighbors or friends got.

Through the wall-wide window opposite of the wall with the greenscreen, a not-so-beautiful view of the grand city of Freeland, Pennsylvania could be seen. Freeland was one of the biggest cities in the US. It used to be a tiny farmtown back in 2000, but since the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man had decimated most of New York City (bakers plus voodoo magic equals utter destruction) in 2020, it had grew rapidly over the past 16 years. Las Vegas was the largest city (who was surprisingly still standing, by some miracle), and then San Diego at second largest, and Freeland at third. Notable cities like Orlando (bye bye, Disney World), Los Angeles, and Chicago were all destroyed by natural and not-really-natural disasters. Such as the Marshmallow Man incident.

Freeland, once a shining example of rural America, was now a smoggy city chock-full of skyscrapers and large buildings, such as the FFAT Building Dove was in. It was modeled after the late New York City when the architects first visited, complete with an art-deco replica of the Chrysler Building and a version of Rockefeller center. It was a shame that New York didn't have the budget to rebuild.

Dove finished filling the fancy envelope, and stood up. She was dwarfed by the huge office chair. All chairs were made bigger nowadays, a byproduct of the obesity epidemic. Now that she was fairly healthy and in somewhat good shape, everything felt too big, like she was a midget in a tall person's world.

Not everyone was obese, it was just a shockingly large (and growing) number of people. There were still fit people, still athletes, though more and more fat people were coming into the world. Her sister, Robin White, was naturally fit, she had a fast metabolism, as she had a hobby of riding horses, which was actually a rather strenuous activity. Dove was more of the bookworm than the athlete, electing not to do sports. But her metabolism increased tenfold when she went on the FFAT diet plan.

"Dove White? You're on in 10!" her assistant, Deer, shouted to her from the door.

"I'm on it," she replied. She moved in front of the greenscreen, staring out the window in front of her. The teleprompter came down from a panel in the ceiling. Deer was a good assistant. The TV crew will be in here any second, she thought. Best to move the money.

She swept the envelope into a locked drawer, one with a palm imprint scanner. She usually kept her valuables in here, jewelry, her wallet, a billion dollars. It varied.

Cameras rose down, too, lots of things were stored in the ceiling. Space was limited in the room, so things were usually stored in the ceiling. It also looked cool and futuristic.

Her agent, Cameron, hurried in, talking animatedly into his earpiece. Cameron wasn't really her "agent", so to say, more of a spokesperson for the spokesperson, if you will. He took care of all her press releases, told her what to say, told her what to do in public, and was a marketing director for FFAT. He was also her best friend.

Cameron was not fat. Most people in FFAT weren't fat, ironically. (They really should change their acronym.) He was one of the first people who tested the diet plan, and as a result, was pretty healthy. "I said no to Kim! I don't care if she wants a deal, just scream in her face! I DON'T CARE IF YOU'LL GET ARRESTED!"

Dove rose her eyebrows. Cameron was usually high strung, but not this high strung. He probably just needed a coffee. Cameron practically lived off of coffee.

She walked over to the mini fridge that she had to the right of her desk. Her desk was in the center of her office, it was like the beating heart of her office. To the right of her desk, she had a kitchenette for when she had to stay late nights with Cameron shooting commercials or working on press releases, or when Cameron stayed overnight in her office without her permission. He never asked for permission, Dove had just come to accept it as a fact of life that Cameron Kingston would stay the night in her office sometimes. (More often than not, she had found a sleeping Cameron when she came into work the next morning.)

She rummaged through the various energy drinks Cameron had stashed in there. "Red Bull?" she asked, holding the energy drink out to him.

He nodded curtly, still yelling to whoever was on the phone, and proceeded to chug the Red Bull down in a few swallows, resuming his conversation.

"Tell her it'll boost her image. There aren't many viewers for Keeping Up with the Kardashians anymore, except the people who still live in the 2010s and the die hards. A large charity donation plus being listed as a sponsor would do her some good," he said, chucking the empty can in her trash can under her desk.

"You're gonna die before you're thirty," she stated, crossing her arms. Cameron was 20 going on a 30 year old socialite. When he had gotten out of college at 20, his extreme talent for negotiating (aka screaming into a phone aggressively and knowing what the people want) had landed him an internship, and in a few months, a full time job. He had been assigned as Dove's "agent", and had exceeded everyone's expectations, most of all Dove's.

"Shut up."

"I'm serious. You need to cut back on caffeine," she chastised, as Cameron slid into the giant desk chair.

"I will NOT back down, you ignorant potato!" he screamed.

"Excuse me?" she said, her hands on her hips.

 _Not you_ , he mouthed. She nodded, it must have been the person on the phone.

"Alright, then. Cameron Kingston, yes. Goodbye." Cameron tapped his earpiece. "And good riddance," he muttered.

Dove glanced at the digital clock on her desk. "We've got five minutes," she said.

"I noticed. Is that what you're wearing?" he asked, eyeing Dove. Among many other things, Cameron was Dove's fashion adviser. If there was such a thing.

Dove looked down at her outfit. It was her usual work outfit, well, style. A white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and white heels, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" She asked that every time, then Cameron would launch into a whole spiel about fashion and what people like seeing on TV and blah blah blah potatoes.

"EVERYTHING. You look like a straight-laced, strict teacher, not a regular person, not someone our viewers can relate to and like. What do you usually wear on a Saturday?" he asked, tapping at the speed of light on his iPhone 26.

Dove bit her lip. "Um, sweatpants and a tank top, unless I'm going somewhere. And I usually don't."

"You need a life, kid."

"I'm two years older than you!"

"But I'm more mature than you," Cameron whined, spinning around in the desk chair.

Dove snorted. "Suure."

"Shut up. Anyway...Deer! Get in here!" he yelled to her assistant in the office next to hers. The walls weren't really that thick.

Deer's heels clacked on the white tile flooring outside her office. "Coming! Cameron's here?" she asked, poking her head around the corner.

"You think?" Dove said, raising her eyebrows at the redhead spinning around like a maniac in her office chair.

"You're here. Good. Camera crew's gonna be here in..." He glanced at his watch. "Now."

As if on cue, camera and makeup people and whatnot poured into Dove's office. Deer skittishly jumped out of the way, almost landing on Cameron.

"Can't keep the girls from falling for me," he said, laughing quietly. "Or on me."

"Shut up," Deer muttered.

A blizzard of makeup rained down on Dove, courtesy of the hair and makeup stylists for all of the broadcasts and commercials she did. Said blizzard receded after about a minute of poking, prodding, and dabbing.

Another stylist shoved clothes into her hand, and Cameron winked at her. That was what he had been doing on his phone earlier.

Dove stumbled into the dressing room on the right side of her room, next to the kitchenette. Cameron had picked out for her a white tank top, a flowy gray long-sleeved thing open in the middle that she assumed went over the tank top, bleached jeans, and black flats. The thing she would never wear on a Saturday.

She put the clothes on, walking straight onto the greenscreen. Cameron whistled. She wrinkled her nose at him.

"Don't make faces, it'll mess up your makeup" was his response.

That just made her want to make a nastier face, but she refrained.

Words began to flow onto the teleprompter. "Dove, I want you to smile and act really enthusiastic about this," one of the cameramen said.

"Got it."

"Action!"

She blinked, staring at the teleprompter. "It's time for FFAT's fourteenth annual Cash Grab!" she announced, making her smile big and bright. Hopefully.

"Twelve lucky contestants will be able to enter in the Cash Grab, and in turn a chance to win 1,000,000,000 dollars, all donated by Harry Styles, _genius_ inventor of the Spork-Chops, the newest trend sweeping the nation!" She didn't really think "genius" was the right word, but...

"YOU can audition now! Just fill out some information about yourself on a form located on the FFAT website listed below! Remember, all proceeds of the Cash Grab go to fight obesity, a rising problem in 2036!" Hey, at least it was for a good cause, even if it was reality TV. Sponsored by Harry Styles. And possibly Kim Kardashian, based on Cameron's phone conversation.

The words ended there, so Dove smiled at the camera, as the live feed clicked off. The camera crew began to file out of her office, as Cameron rifled through her mini-fridge. "Red Bull?"

"You know I actually want to grow old. Chicken salad, please." Cameron rolled his eyes, taking the Red Bull for himself, and handing her a pre-packaged chicken salad prepared by one of FFAT's staff chefs. She took the chicken salad, setting it on her desk. She slapped the Red Bull out of Cameron's hand.

"HEY!"

She picked it up and set it back in the frige. "You already had one of these, you don't need another."

"Well, I had a stressful night! I was up until 3 AM with Kim Kardashian's agent, and she just broke in conversation to stop Kim and Kanye from arguing with Miley Cyrus or whatever! I'm actually really shocked Miley hasn't died from drug abuse yet, but whatever." He sank further into Dove's office chair, fingering his glasses.

"Relax, _kid_ ," she said, watching him crack a smile. "Cash Grab's gonna start soon. You're in for some good old reality TV entertainment."

 **Hehehe, I can't WAIT to write this...I hope you laughed! If you were seriously offended, sorry (not sorry). Please enter an OC, I want people to torture! Oops...did I say that out loud?**

 **Don't be afraid to make your OCs a lot less than perfect, whether they're addicted to gambling or weigh 400 pounds! Maybe they're insanely egotistical and only refer to themselves in third person. I want weird and zany! Heh, zany. Maybe they're dumber than a doorknob, or can't live without their phone! I want flaws, people!**

 **They can also have a celebrity sponsor (e.g. Kim Kardashian) if you're interested! I'd really like that, because I want more celebrities to make fun of!**

 **Here's the form:**

Name:

Age (13 and up! I want old and young!):

Gender:

Appearance (physical features, body type, etcetera):

Typical outfit or style:

Personality:

History before they entered (e.g. did they live in their parent's basement, or own a successful company?):

Reason for entering:

Reaction when they found out they're in:

Love interest (either open to a relationship, with one of my OCs, or one you submit):

Hometown/Country:

Family (optional):

Celebrity Sponsor (if):

How motivated they are to win, on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being I hate this and 10 being they'd jump in a tank full of live, hungry sharks if that's what it takes:

What they'll do with the money if they win:

Flaws:

Quotes:

Face claim (the celebrity they look like):

Anything else you want to add that I might have missed:

 **Yay! Please submit, it'll make me very very very happy, more happy than the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man after he destroyed New York City! Also, I need more celebrities to make fun of, any ideas? (I was thinking Zayn Malik next XD)**


End file.
